There he sits-Marston's faithful friend,
contemplating his silence with a steady gaze, and then, giving his
jet-black face a double degree of seriousness, shrugs his shoulders,
significantly nods his head, and intimates that it will soon be time
to retire, by commencing to unboot master.
"You seem in a hurry to get rid of me, Daddy! Want to get your own
cranium into a pine-knot sleep, eh?" says Marston, with an
encouraging smile, pulling the old slave's whiskers in a playful
manner.
"No, Boss; 'tant dat," returns Bob, keeping on tugging at Marston's
boots until he has got them from his feet, and safely stowed away in
a corner. A gentle hint that he is all ready to relieve Marston of
his upper garments brings him to his feet, when Bob commences upon
him in right good earnest, and soon has him stowed away between the
sheets. "Bob neber likes to hurry old Boss, but den 'e kno' what's
on old Mas'r's feelins, an 'e kno' dat sleep make 'um forget 'um!"
rejoins Bob, in a half whisper that caught Marston's ear, as he
patted and fussed about his pillow, in order to make him as
comfortable as circumstances would admit. After this he extinguishes
the light, and, accustomed to a slave's bed, lumbers himself down on
the floor beside his master's cot. Thus, watchfully, he spends the
night.
When morning dawned, Bob was in the full enjoyment of what the negro
so pertinently calls a long and strong sleep. He cannot resist its
soothing powers, nor will master disturb him in its enjoyment.
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